Of Ice Cream and English Exams
by pennylayne
Summary: Fulton and Dean take a little study break... short and fluffy.


It was hard to look at the two of them and see love. At first glance, all you saw was what was on the surface – muscle and violence and laughter at what was surely a cruel joke played on some poor, unsuspecting passerby. What you didn't see was what was underneath the ice – the notes passed secretively from desk to desk in class, the random acts of kindness to one another, the twin beds pushed together in the dorm room every night. You heard the snickers, but you didn't hear the private jokes or the whispered "I love you's" before falling asleep at night.

When you looked at them, all you saw were the Bash Brothers. You didn't see Fulton and Dean.

* * *

"Hey, Fulton," Portman said from the desk in their dorm room, still staring intently at the notebook in front of him.

"Yeah."

"How do you spell 'Guadalupe'?" He turned around in his chair to look at his roommate, sprawled out on his bed with a textbook open in front of him.

Fulton looked up from the textbook, smirking. "G-U-A-D-A-L-U-P-E."

A confused scowl took over Portman's face. "Are you sure there's not an O in there somewhere?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm sure."

"But there's that '_ooh_' sound. Like there should be two O's there."

"It's Spanish, Portman, the U makes the '_ooh_' sound." Fulton looked back down at his textbook, shaking his head.

"Are you _sure_?"

"Positive."

Portman sighed. "Fine. But if Miss MacKay marks me down for spelling it wrong, I'm blaming you."

"You do that." Fulton turned the page, sighing, and Portman went back to his writing for a few minutes before he turned around again.

"Hey, Fulton?"

Fulton closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up. "What, Dean?"

"What're you doing?"

"Curing cancer. What does it look like I'm doing?" Fulton immediately regretted his tone of voice, but it was too late to take it back.

Dean shrugged. "Wanna take a break?"

"I don't really have time, Dean, I really have to study for the English test tomorrow." Fulton bit his lip, looking back down at the textbook in front of him.

"You'll do fine. You're smart enough to handle it, I mean, you're a good speller and all that stuff." Portman got up and sat down on the edge of Fulton's bed. "Come on, let's go and get a Coke or something. Or ice cream! You want some ice cream?"

Fulton sighed and rolled onto his back, laying his head down in the textbook. "We have to go down to the Promenade for ice cream. Coach says if he catches us sneaking off campus one more time, he'll bench us for an entire game."

"Empty threats, Fult. He can't afford to bench both of us. Besides, we rarely get caught. Come on, I really want some ice cream." Portman grabbed Fulton's hand and stood, tugging gently. "Don't make me carry you. We've been studying for like, three hours. We need a break. Especially you, you've turned the page like... four times this whole time. Your brain is going to explode."

Fulton rolled his eyes and stood up. "Fine. But let's just go and get our ice cream and bring it back here. The less time we're off campus, the less of a chance we have of getting caught."

"See, now when you think like that, I bet you'll ace the math test on Friday, too." Portman grinned as he slipped into his shoes, and Fulton couldn't help but smile, no matter how much he tried to hide it.

"Let's just go, smart-ass."

* * *

The boys returned to their room, licking contentedly at their ice cream cones. As Fulton unlocked the door, he looked over his should at Dean, who was attacking his cone with the same fervor he applied on the ice, which made him look like a cross between a little boy and a rabid dog.

"Thanks, Dean," he said, a little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"For what?" Portman replied, though the question was slightly muffled by the hunk of chocolate-chocolate chip in his mouth.

"For the study break. I needed it." Fulton opened the door and stepped inside, with Dean right on his heels.

"Don't think we're done yet," Dean said, grinning behind his waffle cone.

The two roommates sat down on Dean's bed and finished their ice cream quietly. As they tossed the napkins that wrapped the cones into the wastepaper basket, Dean looked over at Fulton, grinning.

"What?"

Dean laughed a little. "You've got ice cream on your face."

Fulton sighed and wiped at his face with his hand, and Dean continued laughing. "I got it," he said, leaning in and pressing his lips to Fulton's. His tongue darted out and strategically made its way into Fulton's mouth, and Fulton grinned against him as he realized that this would be a million times better than any English exam.


End file.
